The Mystery of the Hichcocke Inheritance (2 page)

“Good morning, Henrietta,” said Jupiter. “Is
Mr. Clark in? We have an appointment to meet with him at nine
o’clock.”

Henrietta was unpacking some things from a
small cardboard box. Jupiter could see she had obviously just moved
her personal items from her old desk in Mr. Hichcocke’s bungalow.
The thought of it left her clearly distressed, as she dabbed at her
eyes with a handkerchief.

“Yes, of course,” she sniffed. “You can go
right in.”

The boys felt very bad for her. They turned
silently and walked to the door.

“Jupiter, Peter, Robert...” she said.

The three boys turned to look at her.

“It’s good to see you again.”

They smiled at her kindness. “It’s good to
see you too, Henrietta,” said Bob. “We’re glad that you’re working
for Mr. Clark now.”

They entered the large office where Reginald
Clark, the famous motion picture producer, sat behind a mammoth
mahogany desk. He was on the telephone, so the boys sat themselves
quietly and waited for him to finish. After a moment he hung up the
phone and turned to face them.

“Good morning, lads. Thank you for meeting
with me.”

“It’s our pleasure, Mr. Clark,” said
Jupiter. “What can The Three Investigators do for you?”

“Mmmm,” the big man rumbled, “it’s not
exactly what you can do for me,” he said. “It’s more like what you
can do for Alphred Hichcocke.”

The boys looked at him with quizzical
expressions and Mr. Clark chuckled. “It’s not as confusing as you
might think – at least not yet!” he said. “It’s actually Mr.
Hichcocke’s family that is in need of assistance.”

“Anything we can do to assist, our services
are at their disposal,” said Jupiter. “It’s the least we can
do.”

The producer looked at them gravely through
bridged fingers and nodded. “I was hoping you would say that,” he
said finally. “It was a sad day when my great friend Alphred
Hichcocke died, but it is he who has had the last laugh – from
beyond the grave!”

“Gleeps!” said Pete. “I don’t like the sound
of that!”

Mr. Clark chuckled again. “You must be
Pete,” he said. “Although this is the first time we’ve met, I feel
like I know you already. Hitch spoke of you often and was
constantly relating to me the adventures you brought to his desk.
Well, now I have one final adventure from him, if you think you
have the courage to accept it!”

“If it involves Mr. Hichcocke, we’ll accept
it,” said Jupiter stoically. “We owe him that much!”

“Excellent,” said Reginald Clark. “And now
here is the mystery. Upon Hitch’s death, he had written up a last
will and testament that left his family, namely his only daughter
Patricia, very well off. To Hitch, family always came first, and
now they will never need for anything again.

“However, Hitch was also a prankster who
liked to have fun. Some of that, I think, came from his
relationship he shared with you three boys. He loved a good
mystery. And the more mysterious the better, I might add! Well,
perhaps it was the practical joker in him that led Hitch to add
this tiny little paragraph to the last page of his will.”

Mr. Clark pushed a stack of paper across his
desk and the boys crowded close to examine them. It was photocopies
of Alphred Hichcocke’s last will and testament. Mr. Clark went on
talking as the boys looked the legal document over.

“This was provided to me by Hitch’s
daughter, Patricia. She can make neither heads nor tails of it, and
she asked me if I knew how to get in touch with the three young
lads that knew her father and liked solving puzzles. Well, here you
are, and here is the will. What do you think?”

Jupiter scratched his head and looked
somewhat perplexed. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said slowly. “I’m not
exactly sure what we’re supposed to be perusing. It appears to be
legal jargon that lawyers use.”

Reginald Clark smiled and leaned across his
desk. The producer pointed a finger to a very short paragraph near
the bottom of the will that they hadn’t caught the first time. It
read:

***

“
Article 33: Skip the H20
and within my estate you’ll find the Crate that leads you to the
paddy wagon. Follow the clues and pay your dues and the 2nd of 55
will reward you.”

***

***

“Good grief!” exclaimed Bob. “What is that
supposed to mean?”

Jupiter’s eyes lit up as he read the cryptic
message. “It’s almost as if he left this just for us!” he cried.
“Would you mind if we copied this down, Mr. Clark?”

“I don’t mind at all,” said the producer
with a gleam in his eye. “I have a feeling you’ll be referring to
it quite often in the near future.”

Bob quickly pulled a small notebook and
pencil from his back pocket and began copying down the strange
message.

Jupiter was almost beside himself with
excitement. “We can start right away! We obviously have to go to
Mr. Hichcocke’s estate, as the first sentence directs us. Do you
know where Mr. Hichcocke’s private home was, Mr. Clark?”

“I do,” the motion picture producer said.
“In fact, I’ve already provided Worthington with the directions,
and Hitch’s daughter, Patricia, is expecting you at
nine-thirty.”

“Golly, that’s in fifteen minutes,” said
Pete. “We’d better get hustling!” With that the boys thanked the
great producer and hurried out of his office.

Reginald Clark could only smile. He had a
feeling The Three Investigators would live up to their
reputation.

Skip The H2O

WITH FIVE MINUTES to spare, Worthington drove the
Rolls Royce up the brick-lined driveway of a simple, ranch-style
home. Well groomed hedges surrounded the modest house, and leafy
palm trees and rose bushes grew in the middle of the dainty
circular drive.

“Gosh, it’s sure not what I expected,” said
Pete. “I had imagined Mr. Hichcocke living in something a little
more spooky.”

Jupiter agreed with him. “I’ll admit it
isn’t what I had pictured a master of the macabre choosing for a
domicile. I guess away from the studio he lived a normal life just
like anyone else.”

The Three Investigators climbed out of the
car and were soon ringing the bell of Alphred Hichcocke’s old home.
The door was answered immediately by a middle-aged woman who was
still quite pretty, and, to the boy’s amazement, held an uncanny
resemblance to the great director. She wore a simple flower-print
dress and a string of pearls, and her bright blue eyes were made
even brighter by her carefully styled red hair.

“Miss Hichcocke, I presume?” said
Jupiter.

“It’s actually Mrs. O’Connell now,” she
smiled warmly. “But you can call me Patricia. And you must be
Jupiter, Pete and Bob. Father talked of you often – it is so nice
to finally meet you. Won’t you please come in?”

The boys thanked her and stepped into a
dimly lit foyer so full of pictures they could scarcely see the
walls. There were pictures of Alphred Hichcocke on the set of
movies, pictures of his family, and of himself posing with stars.
There was even a picture of Mr. Hichcocke as a young man shaking
hands with Stephen Terrill, an actor from the silent era the boys
had met when they discovered the secret of Terror Castle! Most of
the framed photographs were signed with warm notes of thanks to the
great director.

“Father so loved the movies,” Patricia said
fondly. “It was his whole life. He was never more alive than when
he was scaring the wits out of people with one of his films.” She
looked wistfully at the wall of pictures for a moment and then
shook herself. “It’s been very hard on us since he passed. And now
with this puzzle that he put in his will – well, no one has been
able to think too clearly with all of the funeral arrangements.
Frankly, I don’t know what father was trying to say. I do hope you
boys can help.”

“We’ll certainly try our best, ma’am,”
Jupiter assured her. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to get started
right away.”

“By all means, boys,” she smiled at them.
“Do you have a copy of the will?”

Jupiter nodded. “Bob has written down the
section we’ll be dealing with,” he said. “Let’s see what it says,
Records.”

Bob pulled his notebook out from his back
pocket and flipped the pages to the cryptic message. They all read
it carefully.

***

“
Article 33: Skip the H20
and within my estate you’ll find the Crate that leads you to the
paddy wagon. Follow the clues and pay your dues and the 2nd of 55
will reward you.”

***

“Jumping grasshoppers!” Pete exclaimed. “It
seems crazier every time I read it!”

“I think we can safely assume that Mr.
Hichcocke was of sound mind at the time of his passing,” said
Jupiter. “If it was the rambling of an insane man he would have
just said it. But to take the trouble to have it drawn up in a
will...Well, he obviously had some kind of game in mind.”

“That would be just like father,” said
Patricia. She sat down on the sofa and rubbed her forehead as if
she had a headache. “This is exactly the kind of stunt I would have
expected from him. He must be laughing in his grave to see the fuss
we’re going to.”

“Skip the H20,” Jupiter said to himself.
“H20 is water, but I’m not sure how that fits. However, ‘within my
estate you’ll find the crate’ seems clear enough. He means ‘in my
house you’ll find a box.’ Although we’ll have to wait and see how a
paddy wagon fits into the riddle.”

“What’s a paddy wagon?” asked Pete.

A voice with a distinctly British accent
spoke up from the back of the room. “It’s an old slang term for an
automobile with bars that the police used to carry prisoners
in.”

The boys turned to see a tall, black-haired
boy of about seventeen years of age step into the room. Patricia
rose from her seat and embraced the young man.

“Benjamin!” she said. “I’m so glad you’re
here. Boys, this is my nephew Benjamin Hichcocke. He’s come all the
way over from England to attend his great uncle’s funeral.”

“How do you do?” he said politely. “You can
call me Ben. Now – what’s all this then?

Jupiter stood up straight and looked his
most dignified – as he always did when he wanted to be taken
seriously.

“We’ve been retained by your aunt to unravel
a riddle your great uncle left in his will,” he explained.

“Retained?” said Ben. “I’m not sure I gather
your meaning.”

Jupiter whipped out one of the oversized
business cards that he had made on the refurbished printing press
back at the salvage yard. The boys never went anywhere without
them. It read:

***

THE THREE INVESTIGATORS

“We Investigate Anything”

? ? ?

First
Investigator.......................Jupiter Jones

Second Investigator...............Peter
Crenshaw

Records & Research..................Bob
Andrews

***

Ben Hichcocke studied the card gravely,
turning it over in his hands. “Might I inquire what the question
marks represent?” he asked.

Pete and Bob grinned at each other. Everyone
always asked what the question marks stood for. It was an idea of
Jupe’s to help people remember the name of The Three
Investigators.

“They stand for mysteries unsolved, enigmas
unanswered, and conundrums of all kinds,” Jupiter Jones said,
“which we attempt to solve. Therefore, the interrogation mark is
our symbol. As you can see, our motto is ‘We Investigate Anything.’
At this moment we are investigating a very strange addendum to your
great uncle’s will. Here it is...” He handed Bob’s notebook to Ben,
who read it with a frown.

“Great scott! What on earth does that mean?”
he cried. “It looks like pure gibberish!”

“Perhaps you can help us figure it out,
Ben,” said Jupiter. “As I was saying before, the first line seems
clear enough – other than the ‘Skip the H20’ part. There must be
some kind of box or crate hidden here in the house or on the
grounds. Possibly one that floats.”

“Gee, Jupe,” said Bob, “that’s not very
specific. How will we know it when we find it?”

Jupe pinched his bottom lip between his
thumb and index finger – a habit of his that signaled he was
putting his brain into overdrive. “My guess is that it will be a
very distinct box, something that seems out of place with the rest
of the house. Patricia, do you know of any boxes that might fit
this part of the riddle?”

“I’m sorry, Jupiter,” she said, shaking her
head, “I’m not sure what my father has laying around this house.
Perhaps we’ll know it when we see it.”

“I guess so,” he agreed. “At any rate, let’s
split up and begin searching. Pete and Ben, you can look on this
level. Bob and Patricia, you look downstairs. I’ll look outside and
in the garage. If you spot anything that might look like the crate
in question, bring it to the living room and put it on the coffee
table. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

The search party split up. They looked under
pillows, behind pictures, in closets and cupboards. Bob and
Patricia pulled books off of shelves and rummaged through desk
drawers. Pete and Ben searched every inch of the main level, even
looking up the fireplace and in the crawlspace that served as an
attic.

Finally an hour had passed and the group met
back in the living room. Jupiter came in the sliding glass doors
looking disheveled and dirty, and clearly annoyed that there were
no boxes on the coffee table.

“I looked all over the yard and in the
garage,” he panted, collapsing on the sofa. “If there’s a box out
there, it’s buried in the ground.” Jupiter wasn’t much for physical
exertion. The pudgy boy preferred exercising his mind, rather than
his body.

“Creeps!” cried Pete. “You don’t think Mr.
Hichcocke really buried treasure out in the yard, do you,
First?”